Assuming there is an afterlife, I imagine there must be a small circle of idyllic paradise set aside for composers to play cricket. The question is, who would make it into the team?

To open the batting, I'd pick Beethoven and Mozart. Every innings needs a strong start and despite both reportedly being left-handed, they offer a frustrating contrast to the opposition. Beethoven, an obdurate accumulator of runs, is perfectly happy to graft things out for a whole day whilst his more carefree partner effortlessly caresses the ball to every part of the ground.

First wicket down, and there is no one better to arrive at the crease than Brahms. Passionate and determined, he's capable of extraordinary power as well as perfectly timed cover-drives. His breathtaking shot selection somehow manages to appear both inevitable and surprising, making his wicket perhaps the most prized of all. It’s just slightly embarrassing that he tries so hard to look like WG Grace.

Next in is Wagner. He’s captain too, partly for his extraordinary knowledge of the game but mainly because nobody ever dares answer him back. His team talks last for hours, even though he is the one who seems to be most inspired by them. His only real flaw as captain is bowling himself too often, a weakness stemming from the conviction that only he is capable of getting anybody out.

Richard Strauss bats at No 5. Frustrated by the knowledge that Wagner will never relinquish the captaincy, (an honour he feels he even has the right name for), he’s never quite reached his potential. Things have probably always come too easily for him. As long as he scores a double-hundred every now and again, he’s not too worried about what happens in-between. He and Wagner always deny trying to run each other out.

Ravel keeps wicket. Ever immaculately dressed, his old-style refusal to shout encouragement to the bowlers offers a refreshing contrast to his predecessor in the job. It was all very well Tchaikovsky making everyone feel good about themselves, but cricket is about much more than that. Stravinsky is the all-rounder. Able to bat and bowl in whatever style he chooses, he is nevertheless essentially picked for his sledging ability. Although his barbed comments upset his own team as much as the opposition, he’s just too versatile to drop.

Mahler and Shostakovich make up a much feared opening bowling attack. Both are capable of terrifying power and a dramatic change of pace verging on the neurotic. No one really knows what’s coming next - not even the fielders. But once they’ve roughed up the batsmen, it’s actually Haydn who ends up taking most of the wickets. Batsmen see his gentle medium pace as an opportunity to attack, but in reality he’s a deceptive bowler whose subtle changes of pace, length, and line, inevitably get people out. A constant presence at first slip, no one ever remembers him dropping a catch.

Last man in is Schönberg. As a spin bowler, his refusal to bowl any ball the same way for two overs at a time keeps batsmen on their guard. A riveting sight when bowling well, using the same philosophy of constant variation proves disastrous for batting. His walk to the crease often sends the crowd rushing to the bars. Having no interest in fielding he is often replaced by the twelfth man. Though everybody loves having Schubert around, he never quite makes it into the first eleven. He’s far too polite to make a fuss anyway.

The non-playing staff form an equally impressive unit. The team is of course coached by Bach. Too old to play himself, his wisdom is a font of advice for all the players. And it helps that he’s the only person Wagner will listen to. Bruckner keeps the score, Sibelius and Webern are the inscrutable umpires, and Verdi drives the team bus. Not the safest temperament to have behind the wheel, but there’s no one better to lead the singing on the way home.

The only question that remains is who would dare play against them?

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